


Selfie

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock asks to see Jim’s naughty bits during an online conference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selfie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“—Put in for maintenance at Starbase Seven,” Jim finishes, sighing as he shuffles yet another report onto the top of the screen.

The main view on his console is Spock’s face. Ideally, Jim would prefer to do these in person in his ready room, but it’s late, and this way there’s less of a chance they’ll get... ‘distracted.’

Spock’s eyes scan the top corner of his console, clearly reviewing the notes Jim’s sent over. Jim waits for a response, reaching for the coffee on his desk in the meantime. Being a captain is trying sometimes, but being able to share the workload makes a considerable difference. Then something beeps in the bottom corner of Spock’s screen, and he reads that instead. Unlike the reports, he doesn’t share it onto Jim’s; Jim just sees a hollow box, like viewing the back of it. Behind Spock, the lights in the room are off, his face illuminated purely by his desk lamp. Jim’s room is still bright—he doesn’t have Spock’s self control to stay awake during bedlike conditions. 

Spock types something back to the message; odd, as speaking is easier, but the message still doesn’t pop up on Jim’s screen. He must be inputting his own notes on something else. He looks at Jim for a moment, bow lips in a straight line and expression as unreadable as ever. 

Then he opens his mouth, pauses in that way he does when he has something to say that isn’t quite _logical_ , and he announces, “Captain... if I may be so bold, I have recently been contemplating some of your... odder suggestions.”

Jim lifts an eyebrow. He has so many non-Vulcan suggestions that he doesn’t even know where to start. “Such as...?”

“Perhaps our conversations tonight could be done in a little... less clothing.” He looks at Jim completely neutrally, while Jim nearly spits out his latest sip of coffee. He swallows it quickly instead, shocked. 

“You want to play like that, huh?” Even if Spock remains unaffected, Jim’s incapable of holding back his large grin. More likely, Spock thinks that Jim would like to ‘play like that’ and is simply willing to indulge. Still, it’s a surprise to have Spock suggest it first. And Jim’ll take what he can get.

Spock clears his throat and rephrases, “Jim, please remove your shirt.”

Jim nearly snorts. It’s after hours, off duty, so they aren’t really a _captain_ and _commander_. Still, sometimes when Spock orders him around like that, Jim can’t help but get a little hot. Spock in the mood is always something he wants. Jim likes to ‘play’ with Spock any way he can. 

He decides, “If you insist, Spock.” And he grabs a hold of the bottom of his gold tunic, slipping it over his head. He tosses it aside carelessly, and when the black undershirt is left, Jim makes more of a show of peeling it from his body. It slides slowly over his golden skin, revealing part by part of his six-pack, of his tight abs, of the body he now _knows_ that Spock likes to see. Spock’s eyes follow the rise of the fabric. 

Spock nods in clear approval when Jim’s shirtless, and Jim cocks an eyebrow, asking, “Like what you see?”

“Immensely,” Spock answers. His dark eyes transition back to Jim’s, catching them. Spock’s expression is growing more intense. His pupils are just a tiny bit blown, something Jim wouldn’t notice if he didn’t know Spock’s face like the back of his hand. Jim’s hand strokes lazily over his chest, tweaking one of his nipples under Spock’s steady gaze. It doesn’t take him long to get going when he’s got Spock’s gorgeous face to look at, in person or no.

He almost brings back up the Enterprise’s maintenance logs, but then he breaks and purrs instead, “Your turn.”

But Spock shakes his head. Instead, he suggests in a voice two decibels deeper than normal, “Perhaps you could show me more. Turn around for me...” He lifts an eyebrow as though daring Jim to do it, forcing Jim to in order to prove his love. Jim bites his lip. He gets the feeling this is going to go farther than he thought. He never thought _Spock_ would be asking for dick pictures. 

Nevertheless, Jim’s more than happy to indulge. He turns slowly in his chair, and when his back is facing the screen, he flexes his muscles, letting his back shift, arching to show off the curve of his spine. He smirks over his shoulder and enjoys the way Spock’s hungry eyes rake over him. 

Something tells Jim they won’t be returning to ship’s business. 

He turns back around, and Spock asks, “Jim... your pants... I do not believe you should be wearing them. Remove them for me.” _For me._ as if Jim would ever resist. 

Jim has no qualms about undoing his fly and wriggling out of his standard-issue uniform pants, and Spock doesn’t even have to ask; Jim pushes down his own underwear. As he strips and steps out of his clothes, Jim purrs at the screen, “I knew we should’ve done tonight in my quarters. ...Didn’t think you’d miss me so badly...” He wraps his fingers around his cock and stands to let Spock see it, thrusting his hips towards the console. The way the tip points at the image of Spock’s lips makes him suck in a breath. He starts to pump his cock while he talks, and it fills quickly; it never takes long with him, not when any form of _Spock_ is involved. And there’s something particularly naughty about this, particularly interesting—exchanging dirty videos with _Command Spock_ of all people. “It’s not too late for you to come over tonight, you know... get a taste of this cock you so want to see...”

“I am just looking,” Spock insists, which is so _Spock_ that it makes Jim’s grin widen. Then Spock orders, “Remove your hand. You are not to touch yourself.” Jim lifts an eyebrow; he’s usually the one giving that order. Still, he obeys. Gives Spock a better view. He puts his hands on his hips instead—his cock juts proudly out of its own accord. He had no idea Spock was such a voyeur. 

“Turn around,” Spock continues, and Jim lifts an eyebrow.

“You’re awfully demanding tonight.”

Spock’s eyes flicker back up to Jim’s, and he repeats, “Turn around.” There’s a slight green tinge to his cheeks, and his dark eyes are lust-filled; Jim can see it. Jim’s not any better; he licks his lips. He listens, turning his back to the screen, sticking his ass out, knowing that’s what Spock wants. He flexes it once, more muscles to show off, wanting Spock to have the vivid memory of just what it feels like. He puts his hands on the back of the chair, feeling like some sort of pinup model or porn star. 

He reaches back to spread his cheeks, exposing his puckered hole, and he purrs, “You want in here, baby?” When he looks over his shoulder, only one of Spock’s hands is on the desk. Jim wonders mischievously what the other hand is up to. Jim wiggles his ass and spanks it once.

Still, it’s not fair that Spock gets to look at all this and he doesn’t at least get the image of Spock jerking off to him. He’s about to say something when Spock says, “You may turn back around. Put your foot on the table.”

There, Jim’s eyebrows knit together. “Put my what?” He does turn around. Spock’s never been any good at dirty talk.

“Put your legs in view of the screen,” Spock says perfectly calmly. He lifts his other arm from under the table, and all ten of his fingers steeple together. So he isn’t so bent on touching himself to Jim’s picture, after all. Jim stares at him. 

Jim sits back down in his chair, ignoring the cold wood against his bottom, and he asks, “Aren’t you going to take anything off?”

Spock lifts an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, his screen beeps again. Spock blinks at it, then types something back.

“What are you typing?”

Spock finishes. He looks up at Jim, and he says, “I apologize for my subterfuge, Captain. However, I only did so as it is was necessary for your own good.”

“My own... Spock, what the hell are you talki—”

A small window pops up in the corner of Jim’s screen. It’s title flashes blue and white as it waits for his acknowledgement: a message from sickbay. 

Dazed, he taps it, momentarily forgetting his state of undress. But the desk will cover everything else, and Bones has seen him shirtless before. Well, Bones has seen him totally naked, but still.

Bones’ face appears in a small side-window, and it smugly tells him, “Good news, Jim. I can finally cross off that physical you’re severely overdue for.”

“ _What_?!” Jim nearly jumps out of his chair, remembering just in time what a bad idea that would be.

“Your boyfriend streamed me the video—edited, thankfully—I’ll scan the images and get at least a peripheral checkup down.” He smirks very broadly, then logs off before Jim can leap through the screen to murder him.

When that box disappears, it leaves only Spock’s face. Jim gapes at it, a hairsbreadth from snapping. 

Eventually, Spock breaks the tension to ask, “Should I not come over tonight?”

Jim’s first reaction is to snarl ‘no.’ Then he considers saying only after he’s taken a video of Spock naked and sent it to Spock’s best friend, though he knows that in all likelihood, he is Spock’s best friend. Finally, his cock twitches, demanding it be included. His only solace is that Bones would’ve pushed for that damn checkup and seen it all eventually.

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his bare chest, sighing, “Fine.” He knows Spock was trying to help. But _still_.

But he’s still pissed, and he makes that clear by announcing, “But as soon as you get here, _I’m_ the one that gets to be demanding.”

Spock nods. “I will submit myself to you for the appropriate punishment.”

Jim pauses.

He looks down. 

His dick is okay with that idea. 

So he grumbles, “Fine,” and clicks the console off. He rubs his eyes and leans back in his chair. 

And he feels pretty stupid for not being suspicious from the beginning. 

He glances at his clothes and wonders if he should bother putting them on. 

He heads to the bed instead, already plotting revenge.


End file.
